Men Don't Cry, They Bleed
by loveintheimpala
Summary: When Dean passes through town to see his brother and, what he presumes to be, his perfect little family, he discovers that what goes on behind their white picket fence is an entirely different story—what seems so safe and sure on the outside is, in reality, a nightmare behind the curtains. Can Dean help his brother, before things go too far?
1. Lie To Hide The Truth

_This is something really, really different for me to write. Bit of a back story—as part of my college course I have been studying domestic violence. Something that caught my eye throughout my research was that a lot of the time, especially within the media, it is mostly women who are portrayed as the victims whereas, in reality, men can often be the ones to fall victim to abuse at the hands of their partner._

_Now, I understand that this fanfiction is something that would never, ever, happen. It's waaaaaay AU from the show, but I wrote it as part of a way to raise awareness to the fact that men can also suffer as victims of abuse, not just women._

_I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!_

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**Men Don't Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter One: Lie To Hide The Truth**

Something was wrong with Sam.

Dean had known that from the very moment he had first seen him that morning.

At the moment Dean's green eyes found his younger brother's tall frame, heading through the glass doors at the front of the diner, he just knew. Something wasn't right. There was something about the way he walked—the way his shoulders were slumped and how he looked down at the ground as though he had forgotten how to hold up his head—that just wasn't like him. His actions, appearing desolate and dejected, sent Dean's brain straight into overdrive. He knew right there that something had to be bothering him, something was weighing his shoulders to the ground beneath him, and now that something was nagging at the back of Dean's head.

The one thing that Dean had never been capable of doing was ignoring when his brother could be upset. If he so much as suspected that something was wrong he had to find out, he needed to get to the bottom of it or he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else in his life. Usually it was nothing, just a bad day or a rough night's sleep, but sometimes it turned out to be something more, and those were the times that Sam needed his brother the most.

The way that Sam dropped down heavily into the booth opposite Dean only confirmed his suspicions, the way he slouched down and refused to so much as look at anyone else in the busy room, as though all of his self-esteem had just vanished, it only clinched the older Winchester's concerns.

Maybe if Sam had sat down with even a smile—if he didn't look as though the world was burning around him, if there was even a trace of a smile at his lips—maybe Dean would have let the voice in the back of his mind be silenced. Maybe the concern would have been overshadowed.

Truthfully, he had expected Sam to sit down with an excited grin on his face and for him to go into some quickly worded speech about everything he had missed since his last visit. He had expected to hear stories of how his only niece was doing, about how Sam and his wife bickered about organic groceries, about how normal his life was, but that clearly wasn't the case.

The second Dean laid eyes on his brother's features, he knew that something had to be going on. There were dark circles set beneath his eyes, he looked a wreck, like he hadn't slept in a month, probably longer. There wasn't any life left in his eyes, the sparkle that had once been there was faded to a dull and hopeless colour, nothing like they used to be. He looked completely exhausted, utterly wiped out. And, honestly, it worried Dean to see his brother in such an unexpected state.

"What happened to your face?" Dean asked, the first words he spoke to his brother, because it was one of the first things that had caught his eye.

Sam looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, appearing clueless. "What?" he frowned, confused.

"Your face," he repeated bluntly, narrowing his eyes a little. "What happened to it?" He spoke slowly, as if Sam was having trouble understanding him. But he still seemed lost, not following what his brother was getting at. "Dude, you've got a friggin' split lip."

"Oh." Sam nodded in realisation, and Dean could almost hear him cursing himself in his head. "Yeah, that.. I, uh, I went out to a bar with some of the guys from work, got a little wasted," he cracked half a smile, not too convincing. "You know.."

Dean seriously frowned, because that really wasn't like his brother, and he wasn't sure he wanted to believe him. But, he took the explanation, deciding not to press the matter further, and nodded, giving a small chuckle. "You always were a lousy drunk." he commented sardonically, before he took a small drink of the coffee in front of him. "Where's the kid?"

Although he hadn't mentioned it in their, admittedly very brief, phone call, Dean had expected Sam to show up with his daughter, just so that he could see her. It had been a long time since Dean had seen any of them, in fact, now that he thought about her, it was a long time since Sam had so much as sent him a picture of her.

At just six months old, Sam's daughter, Leah, hadn't spent much time with Dean. Sure, he had shown up for the birth and hung around for a while after, but his line of work called, and there were always monsters that needed to be hunted down. Sam understood that and, to an extent, so did his wife. She hadn't said a word to Dean about him not being around, she didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't that Dean disliked her, he didn't, it was just that he didn't really know her that well. When Sam had finally made the decision to leave the life once and for all Dean had been fully supportive of that. The next thing he knew Sam was telling him he was in a serious relationship with a girl he had met in a café somewhere. Soon enough they were engaged, she was pregnant and they were married, living the life he had always yearned. That didn't mean Dean knew her, but, as far as he was concerned, if Sam was happy then so was he.

"Oh, she's, uh, she's not feeling too great," Sam answered, and Dean didn't miss how he refused to look him in the face as he spoke. "Figured I'd leave her to sleep, you know?"

Dean nodded, not sure that he was convinced by Sam's stories. It wasn't like him to fumble at his words the way he was doing there, to appear as though he was searching for an explanation to Dean's every question. He never seemed so unsure of himself.

"Huh, sure." he nodded in acceptance. "So, how you doing? How's the missus?"

It had been over four months, at least, since Dean had last been in that town, and he was only then realising how little contact he and his brother had been in lately. Being busy with hunting, taking job after job in the tireless effort to rid the world of evil, getting the time to call Sam at the end of the day to check in was difficult. He knew that making regular visits to him would only attract the attention of certain supernatural creatures that really didn't need to know where Sam and his family were, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But still, it felt like a lifetime since the two of them had been in a real conversation with each other.

"We're fine, Dean." Sam told him bluntly, almost an automatic response. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

The tone took Dean a little by surprise. It was almost like Sam didn't want him there, like he was frustrated even being there to speak to him. He was on edge, tense, as though he was hiding something, and everything that came out of his mouth now—every word and every slight move he made—all made Dean more anxious. Something was going on, that much he knew, but he played it cool, never letting on. He had learned from experience that it never served well to actually come out and accuse Sam of anything, because if he didn't want Dean to find out he would simply deny it and move on, giving him nothing.

"I was just passing through town, heading up towards Ohio to look for a case," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought maybe I'd stop in and see my kid brother, maybe even the niece and sister-in-law, I mean, is that such a crime now?" He took another drink of his coffee and frowned at him across the table. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not being weird." Sam countered, he even looked a little offended at the suggestion.

Dean scoffed, because just the fact that Sam didn't come back with a sarcastic remark to him was strange. "You're being weird." he confirmed. "And, don't take this the wrong way but, dude," he paused and looked him over slowly. "You look awful."

He wasn't saying it to be cruel, he wasn't saying it to be funny—his voice was serious—he said it because he was getting worried by his younger sibling's behaviour. Everything was off about him, even the way he spoke, the personality had gone from his tone, it was almost as though something had vanished from inside him. He was different, in a way that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. But it was bothering him.

Sam simply huffed a humorless laugh and nodded. "Gee, thanks." he muttered.

But Dean wasn't letting it go. He sat forwards in his seat and rested his forearms on the table in front of him as he leaned in a little and lowered his voice to a more serious level, as if to let Sam know he now meant business. "Seriously, Sammy, what's going on with you?" he pressed. "Hm?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing—it's nothing." A small sigh escaped him, because Dean's green eyes weren't letting up from their intimate search of his features, like he was scanning him for answers. "I just, you know, with Leah being sick lately I haven't gotten much sleep, that's all. It's not a big deal, don't worry about it."

But, of course, Dean was going to worry about it, because that was what he did. He worried about his brother.

Before he could even think up something else to say, before he could try and get a real answer out of him, the sound of Sam's phone bleeping distracted them both. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and frowned as his eyes scanned the text there.

"Listen, I need to go," he said simply, he didn't even wait to give an explanation as to where he was going. He didn't appear to have the time.

Dean was now even more curious, something had suddenly got him on guard. "That the wife?" He allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. "Man, someone's whipped."

Sam opened his mouth, and Dean swore he could see him brewing a comment to throw back at him, but instead he opted for a weak roll of his eyes and a tight smile. "Whatever." he muttered. "How long are you here for?"

Dean shrugged, he really was getting the impression that his brother didn't want him in town. "Couple days maybe."

"Right." Sam nodded. "Well, maybe I'll see you around." he said as he turned and walked towards the doors at the front of the diner.

"Yeah," Dean narrowed his eyes a little as he watched him walk away. "Maybe.."

Something was wrong there, really wrong. He considered the options. He could have been telling the truth when he said his daughter was sick, but anything more than a cold—anything serious enough to have Sam in that state—he would have been straight on the phone to tell him. He thought maybe it could have been money problems, but he was sure that Sam's wife had a pretty decent job, she had money behind her, no question. There was nothing else he could think of that could be weighing him down like that.

But he knew, deep down, he knew it was something. He knew that his brother had been sitting there and lying to his face. He wasn't fine, he wasn't just tired, something was going on, something was happening to him, something that was out of his control.

He didn't care how—he was going to discover what was going on with his brother, he couldn't allow him to walk out of that town until he knew what it was—he _needed_ to find out.


	2. Secrets Tear You Apart

_First off I want to say a massive thank you to everyone for reading the last chapter, also to those of you who left a review, thank you so much, you have no idea how much I appreciate your support! Also, for all of the favourites and follows, I'm so glad that you're liking it so far, I honestly wasn't too sure about it. And, as well, endless thank you the few of you (I won't mention names) who PM'd me to tell me about your own personal experiences with domestic violence, both male and female, I can't tell you how grateful I am of your insight into the topic. _

_This chapter is more of a look into the relationship between Sam and his wife (who I'm pretty sure you all already despise) and their life together. There isn't anything too upsetting in this chapter, but I can't say the same for future chapters, as there is potential for it to get a little darker further on. (At the moment I'm toying between two different endings, and one of them is a lot sadder than the other)!  
__But, as always, if it's a subject you are sensitive to, caution. _

_Thank you again, I hope you enjoy!_

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**Men Don't Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter Two: Secrets Tear You Apart**

Sam gave a small sigh as he closed the front door of his house behind himself. Dean's words, the concern he had seen in his older brother's green eyes, it had stuck in his mind since the second he had set foot out of the diner. He knew when Dean got that look he wasn't about to back down, and that meant there was no way in hell that he was going to leave town, not until he had gotten an answer to satisfy his own perturb. Dean wasn't done with him at all.

All he could tell him was that he was alright, he was okay, everything was just fine. But that seemed to be all he ever said to anyone anymore, including himself. It was like he had some dark secret, deep down inside, and he just couldn't share it. Maybe that was because telling someone about it would mean he was truly admitting that it was true, and maybe he just couldn't do that, not even to himself. It was something that he kept hidden away within himself, something that would never see the light of day, it was locked away in a box, padlocked so that no one could get inside and discover it. But Dean was the type to come and start poking at that box, he would take a crow bar and jimmy it open if he really had to, and he wouldn't quit until he had seen every dark thing in there.

The sound of a shrill crying pulled him from his thoughts. Making an attempt to forget everything else, at least for the time being, he shook his head and headed through into the living room of the house. At the table sat his wife. There was a baby monitor placed in front of her, lighting up each time their daughter cried from upstairs, and each time she sat there completely motionless, as though she was utterly deaf to the sound.

He couldn't remember when she had changed into a person who could do that, or if that was the person she had always been. There was something about her that was just cold, a certain aura that came from her that anyone could feel, one that gave the impression that, at any moment, all hell could break loose. There was something about her that made a part of on guard, as though he could never fully relax when he was with her, just in case.

He was almost certain that she hadn't been like that all along. When he had first met her she had seemed kind, warm, compassionate—but that was all in the past. Her dark brown waves and deep blue eyes had been enough to draw him in, what had once been all charm and endearment had trapped him with her, and now, all of that was gone. He hadn't seen that version of his wife in a long time.

"Hey," Sam said from the doorway, his brows furrowed in confusion as if to ask what she was doing, but she didn't look up at him, simply stared down at the table. His eyes fell to the baby monitor on the table as yet another cry sounded throughout the room. "Has she been doing that all day?" she once again said nothing. "She probably just wants some attention, I'll go—"

"No." she cut him off sharply before he could even get his sentence out. "She needs to get into a routine. That's not going to happen if you go running up there every time she cries."

Sam blinked, a little taken aback, because wasn't that the kind of decision parents were supposed to make together? Suddenly she was telling him that he was supposed to just stand around there and listen to their daughter cry out for someone. As far as he was concerned, if his six month old daughter cried out for something, whatever that was, he was going to check that she was alright. He had to. That's what parents were meant to do.

He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Chole—"

"I said, no." she told him, her voice was hard, unkind.

Sam turned away from her, before he said something that he would regret, and shrugged off his jacket. It was becoming harder and harder to bite his tongue with her, because he was sure that she was getting worse. If it had gotten to the point she could so easily sit by and listen to her daughter cry as casually as listening to the radio, there was a problem.

Suddenly, she appeared behind him. "Where've you been?" she asked him, nothing but accusation in her tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that," He hung up his jacket on the rail beside the front door and turned to face her. "I, uh, I just went for a walk."

Her eyebrows raised. "A walk?" she repeated, skeptical. "So, what, you haven't been with another woman?"

"What? No." he scoffed at even the idea of something so ludicrous. "Of course I haven't."

Even if Sam _had_ wanted to go out and be with another woman, which if he tried he more than likely could find another girl to be with, he wouldn't. He wouldn't do that to his daughter, and he wouldn't bring another woman into their relationship because—even if it wasn't her fault—Sam knew that his wife would beat the other woman senseless just on principle, because that was the kind of person she was. She solved everything with her anger, her violence.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure about that?" she asked him, incredulous.

Sam clenched his jaw and fought back the urge to call her paranoid. "Yes," he replied, voice strained. "I'm sure."

Lately, he survived solely on the ability that he could keep his own emotions in check. He could maintain his composure and push everything she threw at him down. He kept it all hidden under the radar and skated through his life without drawing any attention to himself. It was as though he was living as a zombie, with the same mundane repetition each day. He wouldn't speak to many people unless he was spoken to, for fear that they might want to learn more about him, he didn't go anywhere other than work, he rarely left the house anymore. He lived in a way that didn't draw attention to himself, because that was what he had come to depend upon in order to keep the darkness locked away.

He held that secret, held it so tight and so far inside that it became a part of him. It dominated his thoughts, prayed constantly on his mind, looping around in perpetual circles, it was in every move he made, almost like another heartbeat within him.

Chloe scoffed at him. "I don't believe you." she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

"You never believe me." Sam retorted, not even thinking about it. And that was it, something so small was enough to set her off. Her anger came from nowhere.

She turned sharply and slapped him hard across the face. "No, because you're a _fucking_ liar!" she yelled in his face.

Sam clenched his teeth, hard, and took a sharp breath, anything he could to hide away the anger that was quickly building up inside him. The way he had been raised, the way he had been trained, everything was about reflex. He had been built into someone who could respond to the smallest of attacks almost instantly, it was programmed into him that the second he so much as felt someone near him had an intention to harm him, he attacked. It was a strange thing to take a hit and not automatically respond, because he had spent so many years doing just that—his life had depended upon it.

"You need help." he told her bluntly, his voice was calm and quiet, but there was a darkness to his tone.

He couldn't be angry, he just couldn't, because every time he so much as raised his voice to her she made herself out to be the victim. She could hit and punch and scream and shout at him without remorse, but the second he rose his voice and stepped forward she backed away from him like a coward. She wore a look on her face that made him feel like nothing but a monster, she made herself appear terrified, and he knew that she was fully aware of what she was doing to him, he knew she didn't fear him at all, but that didn't change the fact he couldn't fight back. He couldn't hit her, not someone half his size, he didn't have it in him.

At the look on his face, when she could see him seriously contemplating his next move, her face softened, the way that it always did in that situation. She sighed, as if she was remorseful. "Sam—"

"No," he held up his hand to stop her before she could reason herself out of blame. "This is getting out of hand, Chloe. I can't trust you." Her face formed a frown, as if confused by his words. "I can't trust you around Leah, not anymore."

She opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words for a moment. "What?"

Sam shook his head at her. There was a lot he could put up with from her, hell, there was a lot he _had _put up with from her. But the second that their daughter became involved, when it was no longer just Sam she wanted to hurt, that was when he had to draw the line. He could take her anger, he could take her ignoring him and yelling at him and treating him like her property, but not Leah. The first sign of danger towards her and that was when he knew he had to put his foot down. "You were sitting there just listening to her cry, don't you see something wrong with that?" There was emotion in his voice, more than she was used to hearing from him, and that was when the look of realisation washed over her face, because she seemed to catch on that he wasn't backing down this time. She knew what he was going to say.

"You are not taking my child away from me, Sam." she stepped forwards and her face turned hard, serious, dangerous even.

"Get some help," Sam almost whispered the words, unable to find his voice. "And then we can talk about you seeing her. Until then, until I know she's safe with you—"

"You're not taking my child." she repeated, harsh. "I'll tell everyone you hit me. You'll be in prison and I will make sure that you _never_ see Leah again."

Sam frowned, nothing but taken aback by her threat. Even he hadn't thought she was that cruel. "You can't do that." he challenged, but she only smirked.

"What?" Her eyebrows raised. "You think I wouldn't black my own eye just to make a point?" she shook her head. "Pathetic." she spat. "You're no dad to her. She needs me, Sam, you both need me."

And just like that, she smiled, a satisfied look as if she knew she had him beat. She had him wrapped around her finger, manipulated into believing almost anything she said. He watched as she grabbed her jacket from the hook beside the door and pulled it on without a word.

"And where the hell are you going now?" he asked, almost offended that she felt she could just walk out on him in the middle of such a serious conversation. Yet, it didn't surprise him.

"I'm going out." she replied bluntly. "And you're going to watch Leah."

With that, she turned and slammed the door behind her, loud enough that three seconds later another high-pitched cry came from the floor above.

Sam shook his head to himself and sighed as he turned to the stairs. He half knew where she was going, and he half didn't care. There was a part of him that knew she went out and saw other guys, he didn't know what happened when she did—whether it was just flirting or something more—but for weeks he had said nothing about it. He had taught himself not to care, the way he had done regarding most things his wife did. If he didn't care, it didn't hurt, and that was the way it had to be.

It was twisted, it was warped and it was wrong—he knew that—but it was the only choice he had. If he wanted to live there, if he wanted to be with his daughter, even if it was just to make sure that she was safe, he had to keep the peace. He knew that she was right, one phone call and some fake tears to the cops would be enough to land him in police questioning, enough to give him a bad name around their small town, and he sure as hell wouldn't put it past her to work at a story long enough that he would end up locked away for good. He couldn't risk it.

As he stepped into his daughter's room, he slowly approached her crib. With a soft sigh he reached down and picked her up, instantly stifling her cries. "Knew you just needed some attention." he murmured softly, he couldn't understand how a woman who was supposed to be a mother could be so cold towards her own child. She barely held her anymore, barely paid her attention. She did the basic duties and that was as far as it went.

As he descended the stairs, Leah still in his arms, there was a loud knocking at the front door, to which he groaned. He wasn't in the mood for whatever he was going to have to deal with next at all.

Hesitantly, he pulled open the door to his waiting brother.

Dean smiled at him and nodded. "Heya, Sammy."


	3. Suspicion Always Catches You In The End

_Before I start, I want to say a massive thank you once again to everyone who has given me support with this story, it means the world to me! Thank you so much for taking the time to read, to review and to favourite and follow! _

_This chapter isn't as long as the others have been, I had only finished the first half of Chapter Three (which is this), but I didn't want to leave it any longer without an update. _

_Anyway, thank you again and I hope you all enjoy!_

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**Men ****Don****'t Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter Three: Suspicion Always Catches You In The End**

Dean raised his eyebrows as Sam pulled open the door to his house, and offered up a small smile. In all honesty, he had expected he would get one in return, but Sam only looked at him, as if he was debating between inviting him in and slamming the door closed in his face, and Dean couldn't comprehend what had his brother acting so strangely. It was as though something was going on there, and he just didn't want Dean to find out about it, as though the house held some big secret that only Sam could shoulder. But his brother wouldn't keep anything important from him, would he? He had always thought Sam knew well enough to be sure he could tell him anything, that there was nothing bad enough to make Dean refuse him help should he need it. He just didn't understand.

After a moment of silence, he managed a small nod and smiled. "Heya, Sammy."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as though he was in some kind of a mental battle as to what to say. But he eventually found his voice again, and he cleared his throat. "Hey." he muttered, almost tentative.

Slowly, he took a step back from the doorway and gave the smallest, most uncertain nod for Dean to enter the house. His brother brushed passed him, curious, and turned to him with a frown on his face. Sam was quiet, way too quiet for Dean's liking.

"So," he began, his tone remaining upbeat despite Sam's clear hesitance of him being there. Sam closed the door over and looked to his brother, expectant. "Do I get to hold her, or are you afraid I'll drop her?" he quipped, clearly not what Sam had been expecting to hear.

For the smallest moment, Dean could've sworn that he looked confused, as though he wasn't sure what he was taking about, despite there being a six month old girl in his arms. And then his eyes fell down to her, and he realised how protective he was being, when he didn't need to be. Not there, not now, not with him. Lately, with everything that had been going on, with Chloe getting worse and worse around their daughter, he had been seeing the entire world around him as nothing but a threat to his child. But, if anything, a part of him knew that she was even safer now that her uncle was there, because Sam just knew how far Dean would go should something happen to her. Even if he wasn't always around, there wasn't a doubt in Sam's mind that Dean would go to the end of the earth and back for her should he need to. He would protect her from anything.

"Sure." he nodded, holding Leah out towards his brother. "You wanna beer or something?"

Dean frowned a little, it was almost like he didn't want to be in the same room as him, he hadn't even made eye contact with him since he had opened the door. His eyes hadn't really left the floor—something about that worried him. There had been a time when all they would have to do was catch each other's eye for that brief second and everything would seem okay again, when they would know with the smallest look that they had each other's backs. It was almost like Sam was afraid to look at him, for fear of what he might see if he were to look into his eyes, like he knew his brother could see right into his soul and identify all of his darkest thoughts and feelings.

"Sure." he replied as he took Leah from him, saying nothing more. He didn't mention the strange behaviour, didn't bring up the sudden change in attitude or press the clear reluctance to spend any time with him. "Thanks."

Sam gave a brief nod and turned away from him to head towards the kitchen, never glancing back or uttering another word to him, the only sound was his footsteps echoing around the cold hallway before they faded into silence.

Dean stood there for a moment, just watching the empty space after his brother, he couldn't help but notice, something there was different. To him, it seemed more like a house and less like a home. He just had a feeling inside him, something was off there. Everything just gave him an unwelcome and cold aura, not what he was used to when he visited. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before his eyes fell to the small girl in his arms. She looked up at him with large hazel eyes, somehow tinted with a faint green, and smiled. It had been a long time since he had seen her, too long. It had been a long time since he had held a child in his arms like that. There was something about it that made his mind drift back to when he and Sam had been kids, before everything had gone wrong for them, back when they had been just a normal family.

And that was when he really noticed, she looked exactly like Sam had done at that age—she had the same facial features as him, the same hair—it was like looking at his kid sibling all over again. And somewhere in the back of his mind he wished that Sam could have grown up in the kind of family Leah had. He wished they could've had a normal mom and dad to raise the, rather than having grown up in a situation where the closest father figure he'd had was his own brother. It hadn't been fair, on any of them.

Dean looked up as Sam approached, two beers in his hands, and found a smile tugging at his lips. "She looks like you," he said to him, noticing how he seemed to be a lot more composed than he had been a minute ago. "She has your eyes," He glanced between them again and smirked. "And your nose."

Sam scoffed and popped the cap off of the beer for him. "You think?" He nodded for him to follow him out of the hallway and into the next room, before he placed both beers down on the table and turned to him again.

He nodded. "Are you kidding," A smirk spread over his lips. "She's gonna be a knockout, just like her uncle, aren't you? Hm?"

Dean grinned down at her, and Sam couldn't hold back the smile when his daughter giggled back at him and reached up a small hand to his face. There was something about watching them together that made him feel better about everything, whether that was knowing that he wasn't the only one there who loved his daughter, or that he was safe in the knowledge there was always someone there to take care of her should something happen, he didn't know. But it was like some form of reassurance to him. It made things seem okay. Dean had a way of doing that.

Still, that didn't make him being there any smarter. He couldn't be around them, he couldn't hang around there long enough to find anything out—it was too risky. Hell, what would he even say if he were to work it out? Sam wouldn't even be able to look him in the face. How could he tell his brother—a man who hunted down and killed monsters every single day of his life without an ounce of fear—that he was being beaten by a woman? How did that make him sound? He couldn't tell him, he just couldn't. And that was why he needed to leave.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked him, blunt and to the point, in a way that only had Dean more curious than he had been before.

Sam should have known, the stranger he acted the longer Dean would stay. He would not set foot out of that house until he knew that everything there was okay, until he was sure that both his brother and his niece were fine.

But still, Dean didn't press it. He gave a small shrug, as though contemplating the question. "Nothing much," he said simply, serene. "Thought I'd stop by to say hey, so, you know," he shrugged. "Hey."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. "Right." he replied, voice clearly strained.

And that was when Dean decided he'd had enough. When it got to the point his brother couldn't even be bothered to fake it, that's when he knew something was wrong. Or maybe he was trying to act, and he could just see right through it. Either way, it had gone far enough. If Sam wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he was going to have to find out for himself. No matter how hard he had to push him.

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_Like I said, shorter chapter than the first two have been, I know—little bit of a filler really because I didn't want to leave it any longer without an update. I hope you're all still liking it, and thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate your support! _

_You can probably take a guess at what is coming next chapter—I'll give you a clue, the title is going to be 'When Dark Secrets Come To Light'__, so watch out for that! It should be up much sooner than this one was. _

_Thank you again for reading, don't forget to review! :) _


	4. When Dark Secrets Come To Light

_Okay, first off, let me say a massive thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter, your support means so much to me!_

_I know it's been ages since I've updated this but I've been super busy, especially with other fics on here, and with college, so I apologise for that. Hope you enjoy this chapter! _

_Thank you for reading!_

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**Men Don't Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter Four: When Dark Secrets Come To Light**

Sam stood and watched his brother. After a long and uncomfortable moment which had seemed to last forever, Dean had finally torn his eyes away from his Sam's face. The frown of concern faded slightly as he looked back to the young girl in his arms, replaced by a warm and affectionate smile. There was no denying the love there that Sam saw in his brother's eyes towards his daughter, and he wished to god that the two of them were able to spend more time together, he really did. But that didn't change anything. Dean couldn't be there. He just couldn't.

"Look," Sam sighed, reluctant. "I should get her to bed." he said, gesturing to Leah.

Dean frowned a little, suspicious, but who was he to argue? It wasn't his kid, he didn't know what time they put her to bed. But, in the back of his mind, he knew it was more a case of Sam wanted him gone than he needed to put his daughter to bed. He was going to leave it, not say a word about anything else until Sam returned, but it was as he reached out for Leah that Dean noticed his forearm. It was burned in several places, as though it had been pressed on with burning metal.

"What happened there?" he asked, nonchalant, but there was a note of accusation in his tone.

Sam looked up at him, confused, and followed his eyes down to the spot on his arm. "Oh," Sam immediately pulled Leah from him, just so he was no longer showing his arm, and shook his head. "It's nothing."

Dean frowned and grabbed a firm hold of his arm to take a better look. "Sam, that is not nothing." A swarm of thoughts hit him all at once. What if something had found him there? What if he had been attacked by something? Had he needed to take care of a hunt himself? Why hadn't he called? Dean was sure he would have called. Or, would he? With the behaviour he had seen in him that day, he wasn't too sure. He wanted to think that it had been an accident, but he could see with the way it was positioned, with the undeniable accuracy of it, there was no way it had gotten there by accident. And then an even more sickening thought hit him. "Did you do this?" he asked, tentative. It wasn't something he ever wanted to think about.

Sam shook his head slowly, forceably pulling back his arm from Dean's grasp. "No." he replied bluntly. "I didn't."

"No?" Dean repeated, skeptical. He didn't buy it. _Something_ was going on there. He couldn't understand what could really be so bad that his own brother wouldn't trust him with it. "Then what—" But Dean stopped, and it all seemed to hit him at once. He looked down at his arm, no longer able to see the marks, and then to his split lip. Dean still didn't buy the, quite frankly, pathetic excuse Sam had given him that morning. Something was wrong in that house. No matter what Sam said, he could read him like a book. The look in his eyes didn't lie. "She did this?" Sam looked down, almost in shame, and that confirmed everything. Sam couldn't lie to him. He never had been able to. "Jesus, Sam, what the hell did you do to piss her off enough for her to do _that_?" And then something else hit him, even harder than the first time, like a punch right to the face. "Did you do something?" he asked, apprehensive. "I mean, she didn't just...did she?"

Sam sighed, his eyes fixed to the floor at their feet. He couldn't even face him. "Dean," he sighed, shaking his head. He didn't know what to say.

"Sam, what the hell is going on?" he urged, pleading for an explanation. "Is she hurting you? I mean," Dean paused and pulled a hand through his hair. "Jesus, Sammy."

Dean knew that his brother could kill absolutely anything that stood in front of him. He had the ability to slaughter anything that crossed him. And Dean had seen him use that ability. He had saved both their asses with it. But whether he would always choose to use it was another question. His brother had a heart, he had a soul, and he had morals. No matter what the circumstances, Sam wouldn't beat a women. Dean knew that. No matter what she had done to him, he just wouldn't let himself go there. He wouldn't fight back against someone half his size and weight. He just wouldn't. He wouldn't hit someone that he loved. Or, he thought he loved.

But that was Sam, not him.

Dean had zero problem taking down anyone or anything that so much as thought about laying a hand to his brother. He just didn't care. Not when it came to Sam. Man or woman, demon or ghost, werewolf or vampire—he would take them all out, no question and no hesitation. It was black and white, someone either hurt Sam or they didn't, there was no justification, ever. And, to anyone who did hurt his brother, well, that was pretty black and white, too. They harmed Sam, they paid for it. No excuses, no explanations and no exceptions.

"Sammy," Dean looked at him, finally finding his eyes. "What the hell is she doing to you?"

Sam shrugged, defeated. "It doesn't matter." he muttered.

Dean looked positively horrified at the thought. "How the hell can you say that it doesn't matter?" His voice rose a little at the words, and Sam grimaced at the sound.

Dean didn't understand, but, to him, it didn't matter anymore. At least, not the physical side of it. Because, it wasn't even that she was violent, truthfully, that wasn't the worst part of it. Sam could take a beating better than most people, hell, he had taken the worst beatings imaginable while he had been on the road with Dean all those years. He'd been beaten, tortured, burned, bruised, stabbed, shot—everything. But with her, things were different. The one thing that got him more than anything else was the control. She _needed_ to be in control, she craved it. She _needed_ to manipulate him, she _had_ to make him believe that _she_ was the one who called the shots. And she had. Over time, Sam had come to accept that as the norm.

His eyes fell to the floor, he didn't know what to say to him. "I need to put Leah to bed." he mumbled, quickly exiting the room and leaving his brother there to watch after them.

Dean didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to follow his brother straight up those stairs and demand some answers from him, but he was probably right in his thinking, they couldn't have a conversation like the one they had coming with Leah in the room. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He dropped down to sit on the couch with his head in his hands, giving a long sigh. Whatever he had been expecting, however bad he could've imagined it to be, he would never have thought of this. Ever. Out of all the things in the world that could have gone wrong there he never could have pictured that. It wasn't fair.

Sam had been through enough. He had dealt with enough evil in his life, he had taken enough beatings, he had seen enough pain. He didn't need this. He didn't deserve this. Dean just couldn't wrap his head around it. He couldn't understand why Sam was still there. He didn't get why he hadn't took Leah and walked away. Why hadn't he called the cops? Why hadn't he done _something_? But, one thing more than all that was bothering him. Why hadn't Sam called him? They were brothers, they were supposed to call each other when things got rough, they were always supposed to be there for each other, to have each other's backs. And it killed him to think that he hadn't been around to help him.

The sound of Sam's footsteps descending the stairs pulled Dean back into reality, and he pushed himself to stand, waiting. His steps were hesitant, to the degree that his brother picked up on it. He clearly wasn't ready for the conversation he knew he had coming when he reached the bottom. But the face he found waiting in the living room wasn't one he had expected. In truth, he had been prepared to see Dean standing with his arms folded, or hands on his hips, an impatient frown, accusing stare, something. But it was the opposite. His hands hung loosely at is sides, his face was soft, reassuring, his eyes pleading with him to let him in.

"Sammy," Dean spoke softly. "Please, man...talk to me."

Sam gave a short sigh, defeated. There was no point in lying. Dean wouldn't leave until he knew the truth, and it was either going to come from him or his brother would make all the assumptions himself. Maybe the faster he got it all out, the faster he would leave. Maybe he would let it go. "You know what," Sam begun, his voice quiet, tired. "At the start, it didn't even seem that bad. Maybe I thought she was just a little protective...I don't know anymore." He gave a lame shrug and shook his head as he thought about it. There was no point trying to justify anything she had done to his brother, Dean had made up his mind about her the second he had discovered what she had done. Nothing was going to change that now.

"What did she do?" Dean asked, voice strained as he fought to keep calm. Sam could see him making an attempt to hear him out, not to jump to any conclusions, but that was easier said than done.

"Started small, I guess." Sam said. Dean noticed that he didn't sound upset, or hurt, or anything. His brother sounded numb. "She used to get pissed if I'd go out somewhere, or if I'd be home late from work. She'd go crazy if I so much as talked to another woman, I mean, she'd tell me she'd hit them if she ever saw them near the house, no matter who they were. In a way, she kinda pushed the friends I had away from me. I barely see them now." A look of realisation washed over his face as he really thought about what he was saying. "I didn't even notice how far it'd gotten."

"Sammy," Dean sighed, his voice thick with emotion. He opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He didn't know what to say.

"It's fine, Dean." Sam muttered. He could see him struggling for an answer, and that was fine, he didn't have to say anything. He knew what he must sound like to his brother.

"No, Sam, it's not fine." he snapped, and then he lowered his voice. He couldn't get angry, he couldn't. "You made sure she's not, you know...possessed...right? Nothing like that?"

Sam scoffed, bitter. "I wish this were as simple as demons." he grumbled.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, thinking through his next comment. He knew his brother wasn't going to like it, but it had to be said. "Sammy," he said softly. "You've gotta leave her, man."

"No." He shook his head. "I can't."

"Sam, buddy, think of Leah," he urged, pleading to get through to him. "If you don't get out for yourself then get your daughter the hell away from her."

"Dean," Sam sighed. His brother didn't understand. He didn't get that it wasn't that simple. He looked up and found his eyes, and that was when Dean saw how truly hurt he was. "If I take Leah, she's gonna tell everyone that I hit her."

"What?" Dean looked horrified, speechless, outraged. "She can't do that."

"She told me. I mean, look at me, Dean, who are they gonna believe?" Dean looked away for a moment. "Me or her?"

"Sammy," Dean pulled a hand down his face, trying to gather his thoughts. "I know you, alright? You're not capable of something like that. She can't."

"You don't get it, Dean." Sam shook his head. "It doesn't matter. If she goes through with it, if she tells the cops I hit her, I'll end up in jail. I'll never see Leah again. I can't risk it."

Dean sighed. "Then what, huh?" he pressed. "Because you can't go on like this."

Sam sighed heavily, shaking his head. He dropped down to sit on the couch, defeated. "Moving here, it was supposed to be a fresh start for us." He looked down at his hands, refusing to face his brother. "But nothing changed."

"Nothing changed?" Dean repeated, eyebrows raised. "Sam, how long has this been going on?"

Sam shrugged. "Since before Leah was born, I don't know. It stopped a little while she was pregnant, and I thought, you know, things were going to be different, so we got married, she had the baby and then..." he trailed off.

He didn't have to finish for Dean to work out the end of his sentence. "Man, why didn't you tell me?" he pleaded with him for answers. "Why didn't you call me?"

"There was nothing you could do." Sam muttered. "Besides, what would I even say? 'Hey, Dean, how are you doing, by the way I'm being hit around by a chick half my size.'" He spoke sarcastically, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Yes." Dean snapped, frustrated. "You call me and you tell me that you're being _abused _by a friggin' psychopath."

That statement hit Sam like a slap to the face. He had never thought of it like that. He had never associated that word with his marriage before. Abuse. It didn't feel real. But, hearing it from Dean, it made him think. Was it really abuse? Domestic abuse. That was something that only happened to women, small and fragile women who couldn't defend themselves against their aggressive husbands. Wasn't it? Or was domestic abuse really about power? Because she sure as hell had power over him. She held more power over him than anyone else ever had. And he hadn't ever questioned it. He had never thought of it as being abuse. But now, with the word coming from his brother, things seemed to make a lot more sense.

In a way it had put his situation into perspective for him. He was bringing up his child in a house of violence, abuse and fear. But what could he really do? How was he supposed to leave? He couldn't. He had been over it a million times in his own head, he was trapped there. He didn't know what to do.

"Leah needs a Mom." he said quietly. "I can't do it on my own, Dean."

"Sammy—" Dean went to argue, but Sam wouldn't have it.

"We grew up without a Mom, you know how hard it was. I mean, I wish to god that I'd known her, but by the time I was six months old she was gone." He shook his head regretfully. "I can't do the same thing to Leah. It isn't fair."

The mention of their mother made Dean tense, the fact that Sam had never known her wasn't something he ever liked to think about. "Sam, this is different." he told him simply, but his brother didn't look convinced. "Listen to me, Chloe is nothing like our Mom. Our Mom loved you, Sam. Believe me on that. Can you really say the same about Chloe?" Sam looked down, because he didn't know. He really didn't know. "Leah having one good parent is way better than her having two parents in the kind of screwed up marriage that you and Chloe have. Trust me."

Dean could see it in his brother's face. He was so mentally ground to her, she had beaten him to the point he was in complete submission to everything she said. He had accepted her beatings and abuse and manipulation as the norm. He didn't know what her reasoning behind it was, sometimes it could be the smallest thing. It no longer mattered. And when it wasn't physical, it was emotional. There was no longer a light at the end of the tunnel for him. As far as he were concerned, he was trapped there.

"Sammy, whatever this is, whatever's happening here, you need to get yourself out, before it goes too far, alright?" Slowly, he moved to crouch down in front of him, looking up at him seriously. "Please, Sam. I'm your brother, and I'm begging you here, leave her." Sam looked down and found his eyes, shining with emotion. "Think of your daughter. She needs you, she needs her dad, a responsible parent. Not someone who's gonna give her a black eye when she's having a bad day." Those words struck him, and Dean could see the horror in his face at the thought. "Does she hurt the kid?" he added as an after thought. He hadn't even thought about that. If the word yes passed his lips, that was it, Dean was out the door to find her. He would rip her apart with his bare hands. Hell, he felt as though he could do that anyway. He didn't know what the hell he would do to her when he did see her, he didn't like to think about how dark he could go.

"No," Sam shook his head. "Not yet. But you're right, she'll turn." He knew, she was getting worse around Leah. He had seen that earlier when he had gotten home. She no longer tried to hide the fighting from her, she would happily hit Sam in front of their daughter. How was he supposed to know where she'd draw the line? Or _if_ she would draw the line at all? He couldn't take the chance. "I know she'll turn." he whispered. "I'm not going to let her hurt my daughter. I can't."

Dean shook his head. "And I'm not gonna let her hurt my brother, okay?" Sam nodded slowly. "Don't worry about it, Sammy. I'm here now, we're gonna fix this. You've got my word."

But Sam didn't have a chance to reply to him before they heard the sound of the front door being opened.

And that's when Dean's face went dark.

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_Ahhhh, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm already half way through the next one (which I think will be the last), and I have a very strong feeling that a few of you are going to hate me for it ;-) _

_The next update should probably be between next weekend and the first half of the week, fingers crossed. Thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to review! :-) _


	5. Ending Evil And Starting New

_Okay, first off a massive thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this fic, I appreciate you all so much! _

_This is going to be the last chapter of it, and I have a feeling a lot of you are going to hate me for it, not to give anything away but I definitely went with the sadder ending for this one. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

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**Men Don't Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter Five: Ending Evil And Starting New**

The amount of anger that suddenly appeared within Dean's features was to a level Sam had never seen before. His face contorted from calm and understanding to pure, unadulterated fury within a second as the sound of the front door being slammed closed echoed throughout the room. He straightened himself up from where he had been crouched before his brother immediately, his fists balled at his sides as he tried and failed not to let the true amount of rage he felt show. His brother didn't need to see that. But she did.

Sam stood beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder, but the way they were positioned mirrored their stance when they had hunted together. Dean was just an inch in front, his left shoulder just brushing Sam's right, ready to take on any threat first, while Sam stood behind him, as if prepared to pull his brother back should he take anything too far, ready to jump in when Dean needed him. But, neither noticed, because it was a habit neither of them had ever been aware of. In fairness, Dean was far too wound up in the woman who was about to show her face to them to notice much of anything, and Sam was too concerned with what his brother was about to do when faced with his sister-in-law.

Chloe stepped into the living room and dropped her bag down to the couch. Her movements were simple, casual, as though she didn't have a potentially lethal man twice her size glaring right through her. It was like she hadn't even processed that they were standing there. She didn't seem to care. Sam knew the look on Dean's face could have any normal person, man or woman, shaking before him in fear, but she didn't even glance at them.

But then, slowly, her eyes traveled up to Dean, and then they moved to Sam. A small smile crept up on her face and she nodded knowingly, as though everything suddenly made sense to her. "I knew it was you." she said simply, her voice was soft, quiet, steady, her cold blue eyes now locked with Dean's hard and unforgiving green ones. "I drove past you on your way here. I knew it."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, curious. What did that mean? She had seen him and known something was up? She had worked out that he would be able to get the answers from Sam that no one else could get close to? Had that been enough for her to come rushing back to the house? Is that why she was there, standing with a somewhat smug look on her face? Did she think she had beaten him there? That she had gotten away with everything? He almost felt like laughing in her face, because she didn't know how busted she truly was.

"What's your point?" he snapped at her, his tone hard and threatening, impatient, as though he was warning her not to try and mess him around. He wasn't about to take any sarcasm from her. "What, did you come running back to make sure I'm not doing anything to ruin your _perfect _little family, is that it?"

The small smile at her lips became a little more noticeable, complacent. "Something like that."

Dean just continued to frown at her, she was playing games with him. She was standing in front of him and Sam, actually showing the audacity to take the whole thing as a joke. He had never thought he could hate someone as much as he had come to loathe her over the past half hour. "You listen to me," He stepped forwards slightly, his eyes dark. "Sam might have more about him than to punch a woman in the face, but, believe me, sweetheart, I am _not _Sam." She quirked an eyebrow at him, as if to ask what his threat was. "I _will _kill you. And I wouldn't think twice about it."

Chloe nodded again. "I knew you'd come here, Dean." she said calmly, her voice never wavering, as though she knew something that they didn't. Why didn't she look concerned that Dean knew? Why wasn't she afraid of him? Why wasn't she explaining herself? Something was wrong. And, Dean wouldn't admit it, but the level of self-satisfaction that still held on her face was starting to unnerve him. It was like she had something on them, or, more importantly, on Sam. But, before he could think up something to say, she continued. "And, I knew he'd tell you."

There was something else in her expression as she said that, her eyes were focused solely on Dean, and he didn't miss the small hint of wariness in her gaze towards him. It was as though she knew Sam wasn't a threat to her, because he wouldn't do anything to stop her. He never had done. He had never lifted a finger to stop her hurting him. He wouldn't fight her. But Dean was different. Dean, she didn't know. Dean, she couldn't predict. Dean, she had nothing to hold over him, she had no power, no leverage, not like she had with her husband. And that made him a threat to her, to everything she had there. And, as though she had planned the whole thing out, as if she had known exactly what she was coming home to, she smiled at him, and then she pulled out a gun from the inside of her jacket, aiming it straight to Dean's chest.

Dean's eyes went wide at the sight, he hadn't expected that for a second. He had no weapons on him, he hadn't assumed he would need anything, not when entering the supposedly safe house of his own brother. His brother who seemed to be even more taken aback by the sight than Dean was. He stared ahead at his wife, as if frozen in shock, unblinking. He didn't know what to do, or how to react.

"I am not going to let you take my baby away from me, Dean." she told him simply, her voice almost too relaxed considering the situation. "And you can't have Sam."

That was when Sam seemed to realise that she wasn't messing around. She wasn't bluffing, not this time. She was deadly serious, she intended to shoot his brother. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," He stepped forwards, holding his hands out in front of him, as if to show his surrender. "What the hell are you doing?" But her eyes never left those of the older hunter. "Put the gun down." She didn't react. "_Now._"

Chloe shook her head. "Don't you see, Sam?" she spoke softly, but there was a smile on her face. "This is the only way. This is the only way we can be safe. I'm not going to let anyone break up our family. I'm doing this to protect us. To protect _you_."

"Protect him?" Dean scoffed in her face. "If you wanted to protect him you'd walk out of that door and never come back. You're in this for _you_, and _only _you." he spat the words out at her, looking down at her as though she made him feel ill.

She shook her head at him, bemused. "Where do you get the nerve, storming in here like this after weeks, Dean. You come when it damn well suits you, and don't pretend otherwise. You know nothing about me and Sam, and you have no business with our daughter." She stepped closer to him and frowned up at him. "What happens between me and _my _husband is nothing to do with you."

Dean nodded slowly. "You make me sick." he pushed the words through gritted teeth, and both Sam and Chloe could feel the anger radiating from him. Sam stepped forwards, because he could see how riled up his brother was getting. His fists were shaking at his sides, and he knew it wasn't going to be long before he used them. He was past the point of being livid. Dean was gone, in a way Sam had never seen before. There was no talking him down now. Not from that.

But before anyone could say anything more, before Chloe could try and argue her case, before Dean could provoke her further, before Sam could try and defuse the situation, the gun went off. The sound of the gunshot rang throughout the room, and everyone froze. Chloe's hands trembled, she stared ahead in shock, her eyes wide, unblinking. Dean had closed his eyes, bracing himself for the burn, ready to feel the white hot pain of the bullet piercing through his flesh, prepared for the impact, but, instead, the only pain he felt was from the hard shove to the back of his shoulder, enough impact behind it to push him out of the way. He straightened himself up immediately, on instinct he was prepared to fight, but the sight he found stopped him where he was.

Sam was standing where he had been just a moment ago, a dazed look on his face. Dean allowed his eyes to travel down to his younger brother's chest, to where the deep red liquid was starting to seep through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He felt sick. The realisation of what had happened hit him like a slap to the face, he was frozen, he couldn't even move. It was as though everything had stopped around him, like the world had stopped turning and it was just the two of them left starting at each other like that.

"Sammy," he breathed out, the shock evident in his voice. "Sam." He lunged forwards as his brother's balance wavered, he was unsteady on his feet, swaying where he stood. He caught him before he hit the floor, supporting all of his weight as he gently lowered him to lie down before him. He ignored how his hands were shaking and held onto his shirt tighter. Sam just looked up at him, and Dean could see it all in his eyes, they both knew that he was done. "Sammy, just hold on, alright?" he said softly, his voice was shaky, but he forced as much confidence forward as he could. "You're gonna be alright."

Sam shook his head slowly, looking up at him through heavy lids. "Dean—"

"Just—" Dean tried to stop him. He tried to tell him not to talk, that he had to save his energy, that he shouldn't move, but he couldn't. Nothing came out. He couldn't think straight enough to form words.

"You always wanted to be a dad." he said before Dean could get anything out. And that caught the breath in Dean's throat. He stared down at him, eyes wide, as if warning him not to even dare speak what was going through his mind. He couldn't hear that. He couldn't take that. No way. But Sam ignored it, because he had to say it. He had to be sure. "This is your chance." His voice was just a pained whisper, barely audible to himself, but he knew Dean could hear every word that left his mouth as clear as day.

"Sammy," Dean shook his head, and tears formed in his eyes. His throat hurt from the effort of pushing back his emotion. He could barely breathe. He didn't know what to do. "No."

But Sam took the little strength he had in him and took a hold of Dean's sleeve in a loose grasp. "Take care of Leah." he told him, voice firm, and Dean could see the amount of effort it was taking him to even keep open his eyes. He couldn't take it. Why wasn't Sam fighting? Why wasn't he telling him that they were going to be fine? Why was he talking to him like he was about to die, as though it would be the last time they would ever see each other? He couldn't hear it. He didn't want to hear it. But Sam wanted him to, and he was making sure that he got his message across before it was too late. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam stopped him before he had the chance to even think up an answer. "Promise me," he rasped. "Keep her away from Leah." Dean frowned, but then he realised who he had meant, and for that moment he had forgotten that there was another person in that room with them. "Promise me you'll take care of her."

Dean nodded slowly, not bothering to wipe away the single tear that escaped him as he looked down at his dying brother. This was really it. "I promise." he choked on the words, but Sam heard, and he smiled up at him, almost unnoticeable, but definitely there.

"Thank you." Sam whispered, and the loose grip that he held on Dean's sleeve became so much looser, to the point that his arm dropped down to his side. His eyes were becoming heavier and heavier, enough that he could no longer keep them open. He fell into the darkness, allowing the unconsciousness to wash over him, and then that was it. He was gone, just like that, he slipped away.

"Sam?" Dean gripped the front of his shirt harder, shaking him roughly, desperate. "Sammy?!" But there was nothing.

Sam didn't answer, and this time Dean really did see red. His eyes went dark, hard, unreadable. He was suddenly so consumed with fury, blinded by his own rage, he didn't even feel himself stand. He didn't realise how tightly he clenched his jaw, because he seethed with anger, and that was the only thing he could feel at that point. It was a display powerful enough to have Chloe cowering back against the wall in fear. The gun was held loosely in her left hand, completely forgotten about, her eyes fixed on him.

"Dean," she whispered, shaking her head, still trying to back away, as if she could sink into the wall to escape him. "Please, I'm sorry."

But Dean didn't even hear her. He was too angry to listen, too mad to find words. He didn't speak as he moved towards her, like a man possessed, driven to harm. There were only two thoughts consuming his mind; his brother was dead, and the _thing _that had ended his life stood right there before him, guilty and defenseless.

She opened her mouth to say something more, probably to beg him for her life, or to ask him to leave, to stop what he was doing and walk away. But how could he do that? How could he leave after that? He couldn't leave his niece with her, because Dean knew the type of woman she was. The first thing she would do, her first priority after this would be to get herself off the hook for Sam's death, and the more than likely solution would be her pinning it all on Dean. And then she would raise Leah, alone, feeding her lies about her own father, her family. He couldn't let that happen. He had made a promise to his brother, and he only saw one solution.

Before a single word could pass her lips, Dean reached out and clasped a hand tightly around her throat, quick enough that it could have resembled a snake attack. He held her there against the wall, hard enough that her feet left the floor, his hand around her neck, squeezing as she clawed at his skin with her fingernails, and glared down at her without mercy. He couldn't even see anymore, he couldn't feel, he couldn't hear. It was as though he had completely checked out of his own body, he wasn't in there. He didn't know what he was doing. But his grip got tighter, and her movements became less. The fight was lost in her and her body became slack. Her kicking against the bottom of the wall stopped, her nails no longer raked through the skin of his hand, she no longer fought or struggled against his grip. Everything stopped.

Dean let her drop to the floor at his feet without remorse, and the thud was enough to break him from the murderous trance he seemed to have undertaken. He took a small step back and looked down at his shaking hands, he couldn't even process what he had just done. He could never remember feeling such a rush of anger before. What the hell had he just done? He had just murdered someone, a human woman, with his bare hands. He blinked, hard. Did he really feel guilty about what he had done? Had it been a mistake? Or had she deserved it? He was trained to kill monsters, and, in his eyes, there was no black and white, the woman had been evil. She had been a monster to him. She had been a threat to his family, and, as far as he was concerned, as long as that woman as was alive, Leah was never going to be free. Because there was always that chance she would find her. She wouldn't give her up, ever, Dean knew that. She would twist it around and make sure that she kept her daughter, because that was who she was. He couldn't take that chance, not with his niece.

Slowly, hesitant, he turned back to where Sam lay on the floor behind him, and he realised just why he had done what he had to her. He had snapped. Tentatively, he dropped down to his knees beside him and shook his head slowly. The tears stung in his eyes as he bowed his head to his brother's shoulder. What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go from there? Sam was dead. His kid brother was gone. Really gone. It was over, he had let him down and he had failed to protect him. How could he forgive himself for that? What would their Mom have said? Or their Dad? How was he ever supposed to make it right again? The tears rolled down his cheeks but he didn't feel them, he couldn't, because he couldn't feel anything. He was numb. But maybe that was better. He couldn't feel how truly dead he was inside now that the only family he had left was gone. The kid he had tried to protect his entire life was lying in front of him, blood pooling beside him on the white carpet, dead. Gone. Never coming back.

What had he done?

And then he heard a sound, something that pulled him from his thoughts. Something that most people probably wouldn't have picked up on, but he had learned to train himself to hear even the smallest sounds. He heard a soft whine, coming from the floor above, and his stomach sank completely. Leah. Lying upstairs, six months old, orphaned. Because of him. He pulled a hand down his face, shaking his head to himself, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to push back the overwhelming emotion. Things had seemed so fine that morning, he had walked into that cafe with a grin on his face at the thought of seeing his brother again, and within half an hour everything had gone so wrong. How had it gotten to that point? How had things gone so wrong so fast? He wanted to run away, he wanted to just walk out of the door and leave, never having to look back. He wanted to find something to make the unbearable pain go away. But he couldn't.

He had made a promise to his brother, and he had to stick to it. He owed him that much.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself stand, finding that his movements were shaky. He turned and walked away from the horrors of that room, never looking back, and slowly headed up the stairs. He moved like a ghost, slow and steady, unnoticeable and numb. It was as though he was just going through the motions, putting one foot in front of the other because that was what he had to do. There was nothing else he could do. He paused in the doorway of the pink bedroom and took a deep breath. How was he even supposed to look at her? He didn't at first, keeping his eyes fixed solely on the carpet, or on the walls, or on the dresser to the side of the room. But that could only hold for so long.

He stopped at the edge of her crib and took a deep breath before he allowed his eyes to finally look at the small girl before him. She looked up at him with bright eyes, as though he was the most interesting thing she had ever seen in the world. Almost hesitant, Dean reached down for her. It didn't feel real, just minutes ago he had used those hands to murder her mother, he had killed her with his own bare hands without hesitation, and yet he picked her up with such care, as though she was made of glass, it didn't seem possible that those two actions could be committed by the same man. What was he ever going to say to her? He had just robbed that child of her mother. He had just had a bullet taken for him by her father. He was all she had left in the world. She was his responsibility. And yet, a part of him felt as though he had already failed her, because he had allowed her father to die. He would never let that go.

He didn't know what came next. He honestly didn't. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have any idea of what to do. All he knew was that he had to pack a bag and get the hell away from that house. He couldn't leave her there. He had to pack her a bag and they had to go.

Dean held the small girl in his arms, shaking his head sadly. "If only you knew what you could've had, kid." he said softly, but she didn't seem to understand him. She gurgled a soft laugh and reached out a small hand to him. Pushing up a broken smile, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Everything's gonna be alright, I'm here." he said softly. He pulled her closer to him and she rested her head to his shoulder, seeming content as he rubbed a soothing hand over her back. His eyes fell to the few pictures on the shelf at the other side of the room, and his heart shattered entirely at the sight of one of just her and Sam. He took the picture with his free hand and placed it down on the dresser, next to the empty bag he was ready to pack. It wasn't fair.

"Uncle Dean's gonna take care of you." he whispered, holding her a little tighter against him. "I promise."

**The End**


End file.
